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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23366140">Getting Toasty</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanTheBroman/pseuds/RomanTheBroman'>RomanTheBroman</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>College Is Peak Chaotic Dumbass Time [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red vs. Blue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Gay Panic, M/M, Sharing a Bed, most of them are anyway, the reds and blues are stoners</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:47:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,427</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23366140</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanTheBroman/pseuds/RomanTheBroman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Simmons just wanted to smoke up with his friends. Why did this end in him sharing a bed with his best friend? This chain of events will stick with Simmons for more reasons that one.</p>
<p>Or</p>
<p>Simmons gets stoned, shares a bed with Grif, and has the biggest gay panic of his life (so far).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>College Is Peak Chaotic Dumbass Time [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1680583</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Getting Toasty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This AU has been in my head for a while and it's great to finally get some of it down. Part two is already in the works.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Dude, why are we here?” Simmons said as he tried to pull the collar of his coat over his ears. It was colder than it should be in October. Combine that with his piss poor circulatory system, and Simmons felt like he was going to freeze out here. </p>
<p>“It’s one of life’s great mysteries, isn’t it?” Grif started, staring off into the sky, “I mean, are we the product of some cosmic coincidence, or is there really a god watching everything? You know, with a plan for us and stuff. I don't know, man, but it keeps me up at night.” It was such a strange answer Simmons almost forgot to respond.</p>
<p>Almost.</p>
<p>“What the fuck, Grif? We haven’t even started smoking yet! I wanted to know why we’re standing out in the cold by this empty street on the outskirts of campus.”</p>
<p>“Oh, uh-” Grif stared back like a deer in headlights.</p>
<p>“What was all that stuff about god?” </p>
<p>“Nothing, nothing,” Grif quickly broke eye contact to check his phone, “We’re out here because we’re waiting for Tucker to finish picking up and then lead us to where we’ll be smoking.” He pocketed his phone, “Still hasn’t texted me though.”</p>
<p>“Yeah ok, but why can’t we meet him where we’re gonna be smoking,” Simmons’ tone was clearly annoyed, but the little knee bounce he was doing in an attempt to keep warm was taking the bite out of his words. He could have sworn he saw a slight upturn in Grif's lips in a mere ghost of a smile, but unfortunately speculation wasn’t enough evidence to call your friend out for being an asshole. </p>
<p>“We’re meeting him out here because we haven’t decided on where we’ll end up yet,” Grif replied. </p>
<p>“What do you mean you guys didn’t land on a place? We always end up in the woods behind south dorms. What’s there to decide?” </p>
<p>“Yeah we always end up back there, and do you know what that means?” Grif asked.</p>
<p>Simmons huffed and gave Griff a look that said ‘get on with it’.</p>
<p>“It means,” Grif continued, “that Donut could show up, and none of us want to listen to him right now. Midterms are coming up-”</p>
<p>“What do midterms have to do with anything? You and Tucker always cram for them anyway. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who actually studies!”</p>
<p>Grif gave him a look her couldn’t quite decipher, annoyance maybe, and continued, “Wether I study or not does not mean that this time of year isn’t fucking stressful to just exist in. Anyway,  we’re all stressed, and me and Tucker agreed that if Donut shows up we’d have to flip a coin to decide on who gets to kill him.”</p>
<p>At any other time of the year that might be seen as a little harsh, but Grif had a point. Grif, Simmons, Tucker and Church all like smoking together. It was a good way to let off some steam, and they got along well enough, even though they argued about stupid shit all the time. Then there was Donut. They didn’t always invite Donut to smoke with them, but he had a tendency to just show up sometimes. Why that was, no one was brave enough to ask. Once Donut gets high any sort of social filter the guy has goes right out the window. So, they could ask where he came from, and he might start going into detail about how he was hooking up with some guy in a different part of the woods and just happened to pass them on his way back to his dorm. No one was willing to take that risk. That being said, when stoned, Donut didn’t need much of a prompt to start talking about his sex life to begin with. Simmons shuddered at the thought of some of the more graphic Tinder conversations Donut has read out loud.</p>
<p>“So after we agreed that we couldn’t go to our usual spot,” Grif said, jolting Simmons out of a disturbing train of thought, “we had to agree on somewhere new, but we couldn’t. So we just agreed to meet here, and smoke up in the first available spot where we’re least likely to get busted by security.”</p>
<p>“Ok so that kind of makes sense,” Simmons conceded, “but why did you drag me out of my dorm just to wait in the cold with you? I could have met up with you guys after you found a spot.” </p>
<p>“I’m not gonna wait for Tucker in the cold by myself.”</p>
<p>That’s it. That’s all Grif was going to say for an answer. That really pissed Simmons the fuck off. “Are you fucking kidding me! I have to freeze my ass off on some random street on campus because you didn’t feel like waiting by yourself!” </p>
<p>Grif didn’t look at Simmons. He just kept staring at the lamp post on the opposite corner, and shrugged and made a noncommittal noise.</p>
<p>Before Simmons could verbally rip Grif to shreds a voice rang out, “Hey guys!” </p>
<p>It was Tucker. He was running over to them wearing a comically puffy aqua coat. As ridiculous as it looked, it also looked warm. Simmons was jealous. </p>
<p>“Hey, Tucker. What took so long?” asked Grif.</p>
<p>Tucker's face went from generally pleasant to pissed in zero seconds flat, “Because I couldn’t get a hold of my usual guy so I had to give up on him and buy from Felix.”</p>
<p>No further explanation was needed. Felix was a truly garbage human. He was conceited, arrogant, loved to hear himself talk, and worst of all, a good businessman. He charged more than other dealers around, though some of the more bougie students probably didn’t realize they were being up-charged, but he responded quickly to messages, and delivered just as fast. A quality that’s highly valued considering it’s getting harder and harder to buy from anyone else. </p>
<p>“You guys wanna head towards the visual arts building and see if any spots around there are vacant?” asked Tucker.</p>
<p>“Sure,” said Grif, and they started across the street.</p>
<p>“Wait, is Church not joining us?” asked Simmons.</p>
<p>“No,” Tucker replied, “he told me to text him after we found a spot. He doesn’t want to be in the cold longer than he has too.”</p>
<p>“Grif.”</p>
<p>“Yeah Simmons?”</p>
<p>“I’m gonna fucking kill you.”</p>
<p>______________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Church looked exhausted as he lit the pipe to take a hit. He lowered it and sat perfectly still as he held the smoke in his lungs. He did this until he felt a tickle in the back of his throat that threatened to become a cough. At that he exhaled as slowly as possible. When he reached the end of his breath he finally spoke again.</p>
<p>“I’m serious though. The next time the fire alarm goes off, I'm not sure if I have it in me to evacuate.” Church punctuated this sentence with another hit. This one not nearly as dramatic as the first. </p>
<p>“I understand where you’re coming from, but I still say you need to calm down a bit,” Tucker said as he held his hand out in a silent demand for the pipe. Church complied.</p>
<p>“Oh, that’s easy for you to say. You’re hardly ever in the dorm!” Church griped.</p>
<p>“Yeah, then just get out more. If you think about it this all self inflicted really.”</p>
<p>“Dude, I’m the RA I kinda need to be around so people can come see me if there’s a problem.”</p>
<p>“Dude, you suck as an RA.”</p>
<p>“Hey!” Church protested, not only hurt by the fact that one of his friends would say this, but also that someone in his hall would say this. </p>
<p>Church was the RA of the ‘Blue Dorms’. The dorm was actually named after some long dead guy who donated money to the school, but none of the students could figure out how to pronounce the name so everyone just calls it the Blue Dorms on account of how much the color blue was used in the overall design. Grif and Simmons lived in Red Dorms. Called such for similar reasons as Blue Dorms, and was located on the opposite side of the courtyard from them. </p>
<p>“Not to mention,” Tuckered continued, completely ignoring his friend’s protest, “the only one who comes to you with their problems is that first year, and he’s the one who keeps setting off the alarm. If getting a social life is too hard just hide out in the library.”</p>
<p>“Wait,” said Simmons, no longer staring vacantly at a ‘funny’ looking rock, “it’s only one person that keeps setting off the alarm in Blue Dorms. I just thought everyone there just really didn’t understand how a stove works, or that there were a bunch of chain smokers that refused to go outside.”</p>
<p>Tucker and Church looked like they went through the five stages of grief in two seconds flat. Almost like this was a routine set of emotions for them.</p>
<p>“Nope. All one guy,” Tucker said handing the pipe over to Simmons.</p>
<p>“He’s an engineering student named Caboose. He’s he-,” Church took a deep breath and hung his head, “god that kid is fucking lot to deal with.”</p>
<p>“Aw, come on Church! That’s no way to talk about your best friend,” Tucker said clearly amused by whatever joke he was making. Simmons raised an eyebrow in question.</p>
<p>“The guy has decided that I’m the coolest person ever, which is true,” Tucker laughed, but Church chose to ignore this and continued speaking, “so because of how cool I am he decided that we need to be best friends and is always knocking on my goddamn door. You know, when he’s not accidentally setting something on fire. I’ve been woken up in the middle of the night because of this bullshit four times this week. In short, I fucking hate everything, and if you’re done there you need to hand me that pipe right fucking now.”</p>
<p>“Don't skip me, asshole,” said a voice as Simmons’ left, causing him to nearly fall off the rock he was sitting on.</p>
<p>It was Grif. He was laying on his back on the forest floor staring blankly up at the stars.</p>
<p>“Jesus, don’t fucking do that!”</p>
<p>Grif was silent for a few moments before he said, “What, speak?”</p>
<p>“No, dumbass. You were laying still not making a noise for so long I forgot you were here. You scared that shit out of me.”</p>
<p>“Sounds like a you problem.”</p>
<p>Simmons was about to go off about how annoying Grif was being, but Church spoke before he could, “I don’t care. Just hand him the pipe so it could be my turn again sooner.”</p>
<p>Simmons complied.</p>
<p>Grif sat up, took a hit and proclaimed it to be dead. </p>
<p>“You’re joking right,” said Church, “I’m not high enough to go back to the dorms.”</p>
<p>“Dude you need to chill out,” said Tucker.</p>
<p>“But-”</p>
<p>“But nothing. I get it, life’s hard, but if it makes you feel any better I’ve got some beer back in my room if you want some.”</p>
<p>“You’re not twenty-one.”</p>
<p>“You’re the RA. Gonna report me?”</p>
<p>They stared at each other down for a bit before Church shrugged.</p>
<p>“Like I give shit. Let’s go.”</p>
<p>Tucker got his pipe back and the two walked off leaving Grif and Simmons alone.</p>
<p>“Grif.”</p>
<p>A grunt.</p>
<p>“We should head out too. Get up.”</p>
<p>“Uuughhh I don’t feel like standing.”</p>
<p>“I’m not letting you fall asleep in the woods again. Get up.” </p>
<p>Simmons didn’t know why he put up with Grif’s bullshit, but if Grif was going to be stubborn, he was going to be stubborn right back.</p>
<p>“Grif!”</p>
<p>“Help me up.”</p>
<p>Simmons was stunned for a second. He expected more resistance. Normally once Grif was comfortable he’d need some sort of bribe to get moving. Simmons once had to promise him four packs of double stuffed oreos just to get a ride into town. This felt way too easy. There had to be a catch.</p>
<p>“You can get up by yourself. Just come on already.”</p>
<p>“Either leave me here, and go back by yourself, or help me up. These are the options.”</p>
<p>Simmons sighed, but complied nonetheless. He stood over Grif and held out his hands. Grif grabbed on and stood with almost no assistance. Simmons wanted to be upset at this. He wanted to yell at Grif for making up excuses. He wanted to tell Grif to fuck off. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He was too distracted by how warm Grif’s hands were. How soft they were, and how close the two were now. There was hardly any space between them. Simmons had to crane his head up to meet Grif’s eyes, and boy was that a mistake. Their faces were way too close for comfort. Simmons opened his mouth to say… something, but he couldn’t find any words. It didn’t matter though because that’s when Grif decided to release his hands. Grif said nothing as he started walking back to the dorms. After a few feet he turned to see if Simmons was following. Simmons shook off all thoughts about whatever just happened and followed after his friend.</p>
<p>They walked back in relative silence. The only noises in existence seemed to be their footsteps, Grif chewing on the seemingly never ending supply of oreos he had in his hoodie pocket, and the sound of Simmons’ blood coursing through his veins. The last one was probably because he was stoned out of his mind. Normally he just felt his blood flow. The sound effects were new, but it was nothing to get hung up on. It actually sounded kind of cool. </p>
<p>“Simmons, you listening?” it was Grif, but he sounded far away. Simmons shook his head.</p>
<p>“I said we’re here. Do you know where your keys are?”</p>
<p>Simmons looked around and sure enough there were in front of their respective rooms. He looked at his door, then at Grif’s, and then slumped over.</p>
<p>“Ok buddy, what’s wrong?” Grif didn’t sound annoyed, so Simmons felt safe to speak.</p>
<p>“If I go in now I’ll wake up Gene, and if I wake up Gene he’ll notice that I reek of weed and that my eyes are red as fuck, and after that he’ll report me to Sarge, and I don’t want to deal with any of that.”</p>
<p>Grif stood in thought for a moment. Simmons knew he was making a good point that’s why this sucked so much right now. He told Grif all about his shitty roommate Gene. For whatever reason he had it out for Simmons, and was always looking for a reason to report him. Though the working theory is that he just wants to suck up to their batshit RA who insists that everyone calls him Sarge. No one even knew his real name, and anyone who asked would get chewed out. The two of them once asked Church thinking he would know being another RA and all, but all they got in response was a dead faced look and a sigh. They took that to mean that he didn’t know either. </p>
<p>After thinking the situation over Grif looked back at the miserable looking Simmons, “Alright come on.”</p>
<p>Simmons looked back confused.</p>
<p>“You can stay in my room tonight. Get in.” Grif walked into his unlocked dorm and Simmons followed suit, closing the door behind them.</p>
<p>Simmons normally tried to avoid Grif’s room for hygiene reasons. A lot of people did actually. Every roommate Grif ever had moved out. Some did so unofficially and would just crash at a friend’s place. Some got the school involved, but because Grif’s actions technically didn’t cause a fire hazard the school couldn't penalize him and just offered to relocate them. Some just refused to continue to live on campus, and got a small place nearby because they were that jaded by their experience. </p>
<p>Grif and Simmons were sophomores now, and the school finally stopped trying to assign Grif a roommate after this year's first quarter. Whoever had to deal with this was probably tired of all the paperwork this caused, but this also meant that Grif now had a double all to himself.</p>
<p>Grif’s bed was fine enough. A little cluttered and unmade and who knows when the sheets were last washed. There was a clear walkway in front of the windows, doors, beds, mini-fridge and the microwave that he definitely wasn’t supposed to have sitting on top of it. There wasn’t any rotting food either, as if Grif would leave anything uneaten long enough for it to rot, but that’s where the cleanliness ended. The drawers to his dresser were overflowing with clothes, Simmons hoped that the reason that the pile of trash in the corner was so massive was because a desk was under it, the second bed in the room seemed to become storage for every possible miscellaneous object, and any place that wasn’t part of the official path was covered in dirty clothes, textbooks, empty bottles of soda, and god knows what else.</p>
<p>Simmons stood still in the center of the room uncertain on what to do with himself. He wanted to move or ask Grif what the plan for sleeping arrangements were, but he couldn’t. His whole body felt really light and heavy at once. He could also still feel his blood moving through his veins. It tickled. It occurred to Simmons that he might not have reached peak high yet. For some reason he found this funny and started laughing quietly.</p>
<p>“You okay there, buddy?”</p>
<p>Simmons shifted his attention back to Grif who looked both confused and amused all at the same time. He was also missing his extra layers. Now he was only in a t-shirt and… shorts? No, wait.</p>
<p>“Why are you in your boxers?”</p>
<p>“Because this is how I sleep,” he said as if this should be obvious.</p>
<p>Simmons simply nodded and continued to stare at his friend.</p>
<p>“Dude, how high are you?”</p>
<p>“... yeah.”</p>
<p>Now it was Grif’s turn to laugh. He had a good laugh.</p>
<p>“Okay dude, just get off your coat and shoes and lay down already.”</p>
<p>Simmons watched Grif crawl into bed, and then looked around the room. Clearing off the other bed seemed like too much work right now, and he wasn’t about to sleep on whatever made up all that clutter.</p>
<p>“Grif?”</p>
<p>“Yeah?” </p>
<p>“There’s nowhere to sleep.”</p>
<p>“There’s an entire other bed.” </p>
<p>“It’s covered in your shit and I’m too tired to move it.”</p>
<p>“Sleep on my beanbag then.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where is it?!” The mere thought that an entire beanbag chair was concealed under all this garbage filled Simmons with fear. That was probably the worst thing Grif could have said.</p>
<p>“Fine, sleep in my bed”</p>
<p>When Grif made no attempt to move, realization dawned on Simmons and he regretted his previous thought. That was the worst thing he could have said. “But you’re there,” was all Simmons could muster in response.</p>
<p>“How observant.” Neither of them said anything. Grif groaned, and turned in his bed to face Simmons, “The way I see it these are your options: sleep in my spare bed,” no, “sleep on the floor,” as if, “go home,” not possible, “or stop complaining and share my bed with me. So, what will it be?”</p>
<p>Simmons sighed, “Move over.”</p>
<p>Grif turned back towards the wall and scouted as close to it as he could, and Simmons finally made to remove his coat and shoes. As he did so he contemplated his next big problem. He was wearing jeans. Sleeping in his jeans sounded awful, but taking them off sounded awkward. Grif was already not wearing pants so maybe he was making it weirder than it needs to be, but on the other hand Grif wasn’t planning on sharing a bed with him so maybe this was actually something to be concerned about. </p>
<p>In the end Simmons reasoned he’d be fine and took off his pants, and that it’d only be weird if he made it weird. With that out of the way he placed his glasses on the cleanest surface he could find, which wasn’t saying much, and made his way over to Grif.</p>
<p>There wasn’t much space left for Simmons to actually lay down, it was a twin after all, so when he finally crawled in himself his back was pressed against Grif’s. This wasn’t the worst thing though. Simmons had been cold all night and Grif felt so warm. It was almost like he was pressed against a giant heating pad.</p>
<p>“Uh, thanks. I’ve always run really warm.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Why do you sound so confused? You’re the one going on about how I feel nice like a heating pad.”</p>
<p>“I said that out loud!” Simmons' voice pitched higher than he would have liked.</p>
<p>“Dude keep your voice down, and yes you’re really gone and are apparently thinking out loud. Now please just go to sleep.”</p>
<p>Simmons normally would have been too embarrassed to relax, but it was true. He was stoned out of his goddamn mind. This gave his fatigue an advantage, and he soon drifted off to sleep.<br/>Simmons didn’t  dream often, and when he did they were never that interesting. This time was no exception. He was on a beach somewhere he didn’t recognize. It was close to sunset, but it still felt pretty hot out. That was okay with him. He can never seem to keep warm so this was a nice change of pace. He also wasn’t dressed for the beach. He was wearing a t-shirt, flannel, and sweatpants. He didn’t recall owning pants like this. They were too big on him, and covered his feet. They were so soft and cozy though that he didn’t concern himself with it.</p>
<p>He walked around for a bit. There weren’t any other people, nor were there any signs that other people had ever been here either. There was zero litter, and a complete absence of man made structures. Even looking away from the shore he couldn’t see anything outside of an abundance of palm trees and other plant life. He looked back the way he came. The only footprints in the sand were his own. He was completely alone. This realization made him feel safe. Beaches normally stressed him out. Everytime he went, his friends would try to force him into the water. He wasn’t a great swimmer, but he’d be damned if he admitted it. This was nice in comparison.</p>
<p>He walked for a bit longer before sitting in the sand to watch the waves move in and out. It was rhythmic and hypnotizing. He wished he could stay here forever, but something was off. The more he focused on the waves, the more he realized they were wrong. He knew what waves sounded like, and this wasn’t it. Instead of their normal gentle whooshing they sounded agitated, but the ocean was calm so that made no sense. It also didn’t sound like water. It sounded more like a lawn mower that wouldn’t start, but he knew that wasn’t quite right. This was starting to get to him. Why was the water wrong, and what was that noise?</p>
<p>The more he struggled with that noise, the less relaxed he became. Slowly the world around him started to melt away, and he opened his eyes to stare at the off white ceiling of a shitty dorm room. He still felt really warm so he figured that’s why he dreamed of a beach, but before he could contemplate why the ocean sounded weird he heard a noise by his right ear. It was the noise the waves made. He turned his head to face it and was met with a sleeping Grif. The realization that he was listening to Grif’s snoring was only a faint thought in the back of his mind compared to everything else Simmons was taking in about his surroundings. </p>
<p>First off, Grif’s face was mere inches from his own. Grif was dead asleep, his lips were slightly parted, and he was dangerously close to Simmons’ own mouth. The second realization was why Simmons was so warm. Grif had him fucking pinned. At some point in the night Grif flopped onto his stomach and trapped half of Simmons’ body underneath him. The arm draped across Simmons’ chest was one thing, but the leg between his own that was pressing into his crotch was another.</p>
<p>Simmons tried to free himself, but Grif was a deadweight and could not be moved. Now desperate to get up and get out of this situation he started to shake his friend with his free arm. Nothing. He tried calling Grif’s name, but that just made things worse. Grif scrunched his eyes up and buried his face into the crook of Simmons’ neck. Grif’s long curly hair was now framing Simmons’ face. It actually smelled kind of nice and-, “For the love of god Grif wake up!”</p>
<p>Grif just wriggled more at his shouting, and he really needed to stop doing that. Simmons’ decided he needed to double down, and started shaking his friend more violently and continued to yell and curse at him.</p>
<p>“Mmmhhuuu... why are you yelling?” Grif grumbled into his neck. Simmons thought he would be happy to finally make progress, but Grif’s voice was so rough and  bare, not to mention insanely close to his ear. Simmons felt his face turning a deep shade of red, and wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. Unfortunately he didn’t think that was an option.</p>
<p>“You’ve got me pinned, and I can’t move so you have to.”</p>
<p>No response.</p>
<p>“Don’t you dare fall back asleep! Let me up you dick!” </p>
<p>“Fine, stop yelling,” Grif grumbled, again into his fucking neck, but slowly and surely Grif turned onto his side. Thank fucking christ. </p>
<p>The second Simmons could move he bolted out of the bed, found his things, got dressed, ignored any and all sensations he felt in his boxers, and left as fast as he could. Once he was safely in the hallway he leaned against the wall. His heart was racing, and the only thought he could muster was what the fuck!</p>
<p>He took out his phone to see that it was only 8:30 in the morning. He still didn’t want to go back to his room. Gene would still be in there and he really didn’t want to see that pain in the ass after whatever just happened. </p>
<p>His body had already started to feel cold again. Sleeping under Grif had been the warmest he’d been since the weather decided to take a nosedive temperature wise. Why did he have to be so warm and comfortable to sleep with, and...  nope! He forced himself to abandon that train of thought and instead decided to curse the school for having such shitty infrastructure. It was so drafty that the heating system did absolutely nothing. It’s the school’s fault that he wished he was still in bed with Grif.</p>
<p>Oh god what was he thinking! Grif might be a human space heater, but that was no reason to want to actually share a bed with him, and Simmons did not want to share with him. </p>
<p>Simmons was too busy lamenting his situation, that he didn’t hear the footsteps approaching.</p>
<p>“Oh hey, Simmons,” said an overly cheery voice. </p>
<p>“Donut! What are you doing up?” Simmons cursed himself for the millionth time that day. This time for sounding like a panicked idiot. </p>
<p>“I’m always up this early,” he said. Donut was wearing a white shirt, fuzzy pink pajama pants, and matching slippers. His hair was in a loose bun and he had a face mask on. Just Simmons’ luck to run into Donut of all people, in the middle of his morning routine no less, in a time like this.</p>
<p>Donut looked him up and down, “You look really out of sorts. Are you okay?”</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” his voice betrayed him and came out panicked and defensive, exposing him like the liar that he is. </p>
<p>Donut pursed his lips at this, and looked to the right of Simmons, “Did you just leave Grif’s room?” </p>
<p>Simmons looked at Grif’s door. He was still leaning next to it. Why was he still next to it? Why did he even decide to share a bed with Grif in the first place? Why was any of this happening!</p>
<p>“Nope, I was actually on my way to the library. I have a lot of coding to do for class. With midterms coming up it’s really crunch time. Well, bye!” and he made for the exit, leaving a confused Donut in his wake.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>______________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was late afternoon as Church and Tucker studied in the library. Well, saying they were studying might be generous. Church gave up about forty minutes ago, and was now just playing Mincraft on his laptop. Tucker, on the other hand may have not yet given up on the hope of being productive, but he had been staring at the same French passage for the past twenty minutes hoping to god he could properly understand a small fraction of it. In times like these he really regretted choosing French as a second language. It was a stupid language that cared more about sounding nice than actaully making any fucking sense. </p>
<p>The pair were so engrossed in their respective tasks, that they didn’t hear Donut approach.</p>
<p>“Hey, guys!”</p>
<p>“Hey, Donut,” said the pair, neither looking up to greet their friend.</p>
<p>“How’s studying going?”</p>
<p>“I think my brain is gonna split,” said Tucker.</p>
<p>“Easy enough,” replied Church, earning himself a glare from his struggling friend. “What? You know math and programming comes easy to me. I don’t really need to put that much effort in.”</p>
<p>“Fuck you, man.” Tucker turned his attention back to Donut, “If you’re here just to make small talk can we skip it. I really want to finish reading whatever the fuck this is,” he said gesturing to the offending French homework.</p>
<p>“Alright then. Did something happen with Simmons?” his concern evident by his tone of voice.</p>
<p>Church finally looked away from his laptop, “Why? What happened?”</p>
<p>“Well, I saw him this morning and he was all disheveled, and panicked looking. He was also really cagey. Do you know if something happened to him?”</p>
<p>“No, we saw him last night and he was fine,” said Tucker.</p>
<p>Donut turned to Church, “Yeah, no he was acting normal last we saw him. Where did you say this happened?”</p>
<p>“I ran into him in our hall. Right outside of Grif’s room actually.”</p>
<p>Tucker started laughing and he turned to Church, “Oh, you definitely owe me twenty bucks.”</p>
<p>“Hey, we don’t know anything for sure so calm down a bit.”</p>
<p>“What are you guys talking about,” Donut said, eyebrow raised.</p>
<p>“Oh, me and Church have a long standing bet,” Tucker explained, “Grif and Simmons are clearly into each other right, and I think it’s only a matter of time before they finally get together, but Church here thinks that I’m way off base.”</p>
<p>“That’s because even if those two were actually into each other, which I’m still not one hundered percent convinced they are, they’re too dumb and dense to actually be able to communicate their feeling to each other.”</p>
<p>Tucker rolled his eyes and continued, “And because of this disagreement every few months we make a bet about whether or not they’ll finally get together.”</p>
<p>“We’ve been doing this since freshman year, and I’ve made a hundred and sixty bucks so far.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but I’ve finally won so pay up!”</p>
<p>“No, Church is right, Tucker. I would be able to tell if that’s what happened, and it wasn’t.”</p>
<p>“How would you-”</p>
<p>“Don’t make him explain his reasoning,” Church interrupted. </p>
<p>A second to think gave Tucker enough time to realize that he actually didn’t want to know why Donut would be able to just know something like that, “Ok, fine. They didn’t hook up. What happened then?”</p>
<p>“I’m not a hundred percent sure yet, but I do think something’s in motion so I want in on the action,” Tucker and Church looked at each other at a loss on how to respond. Donut paid them no mind and continued, “I’m with Tucker on this. Put me down for twenty dollars.”</p>
<p>Understanding passed through the two blues, and Church turned back to his laptop, “Fine, I’m okay with making an extra twenty.”</p>
<p>And just like that, an idiotic bet had become that much more interesting.</p>
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